Life and Stuff

I celebrated Mother's Day in my own true fashion. Had a great limo ride to the mall with gift certificates for all 12 of us attending. We had a contest: whoever used their certificate to buy the best gift would win another certificate & we only had an hour & a half to shop. The winner would be voted on by us. Sounds all right. It was. I paired up with a fun chick named Michelle (looks like a really cute Britney Spears - if Brit were cute) and we put our certificates together came up with the theme of "Ebony & Ivory" for our gifts. We hit Bath & Body, Victoria's Secret, and Hallmark. We got candles with either black or white in the name or in color (White Pepper & Black Currant candles, white & black thongs, white gift bag with black tissue paper wrap... get it?). We coulda been contenders... We finished early, hit a bar for refreshments, and - that's where we got in trouble.

Michelle is a fun chick. Remember that I told you that, okay? She decides that the wine we had before we left my brother's house & the champagne we had in the ride to the mall were not good enough. Not fun-chick enough. So. Saki Bombers.

I'd never heard of a Saki Bomber & I think I'd only had saki once before in my life (with a LOT of rice and other healthy food already coating my stomach). Michelle - being a fun chick - and me -being stupid, decide to do the Bombers. You fill a tumbler half up with really cold beer, fill a saki cup with really warm saki, and Bombs away! Yeah.

I had four of those before the rest of the women caught up with us and it was time to get back to the rest of our ride. We went to a place called The Cheesecake Factory. I have no idea if they serve cheesecake or if there is indeed a factory around. I walked in feeling fine, joking with the driver (whose name was Jimmy Hendrix, I kid you not) and sneaking out once or twice with another girlfriend for a smoke. I made it for about twenty minutes and went from stone cold sober to completely drunk. I mean, the kind of drunk where I only remember the first few minutes of being drunk.

I woke up at 1:26 in the morning with no idea how I'd gotten home, out of my clothes and in bed. Went to the kitchen for some ginger ale (which sounded like a great idea after I'd almost made myself gag brushing my teeth), got one sip of the ale down & was drunk all over again. I mean, drunk as in having to crawl back to the bedroom.

I woke up at 3-something. Apparently, I'd made it to the foot of the bed & fell asleep propped against the footboard. Felt a little better (just a very little) and made it to the kitchen again. This time, I made some coffee (which sounded like a good idea at the moment), but as soon as I smelled it brewing, I knew it wasn't the best idea. Okay.

Ice chips. Always good, right? Don't they give this to hospital patients? I got me a cup of ice chips and headed to the back porch to sit and have a smoke.

Not good. Apparently (and I remembered this right after I'd had a few ice chips) water only brings a drunk back to drunk.

I crawled (and I do mean, I got on my hands and knees and CRAWLED) off the porch, through the sliding door and into the house. I think I walked some of the way to the bedroom. Made it to the bed this time, and lay there feeling sick as R. Kelly until I must have dozed off.

6 a.m. or so, my sister (who slept through my stumbling/crawling, coffee-making, ice-chip gathering escapades) comes in to sit on my bed.

"How're you feeling?"

I give her the run-down of my escapades. She tells me that my brother had gone to get me and bring me home. He apparently was having a great laugh at my drunkeness & saying how much fun he would have with me at work TUESDAY (since I wasn't looking like a Monday kind of gal at that point)...

"At least you had a good time."

(Was she not paying attention? Well, okay - I DID have a mostly good time.)

Then:

"I have bad news."

Fuck.

At this point, I figured I'd had about all the bad news I could take. A look back: My friend's son was killed in a motorcycle accident. My Uncle's wife passed. My cousin's boyfriend passed. And now...

"You Auntie Nita was killed by a drunk driver on her way to work."

*** *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

I made phone calls to my Texas and Arkansas family find out about arrangements (for both Uncle's wife & my Auntie Nita). I took a shower, did laundry, laid out something for work for the week. I sat on the porch and smoked way too many cigarettes. I took phone calls from my fellow contestants & put up with the jokes and cracks about being a "lightweight." I filled the birdfeeder & freshened the birdbath. I watered my trees. Smoked some more. Managed to drink O.J. that my older brother brought over for me. I took a nap.

At around 4 o'clock or so, I managed to eat part of an Arby's Market Fresh Turkey sandwhich with some warm boullion. At around five, I called my brothers and told them that I decided I wasn't going to go to either funeral. They & my sister are all talking now about who will be going to represent us.

I almost feel like getting drunk again, but I'm the kind of person - I can't drink at will. That's probably why I'm not an alcoholic. If I were able to just drink to get drunk, I'd do it now while I try to figure out why the drunk driver who killed Nita was driving in the first place. Why couldn't he have called himself a taxi, a friend, or a brother to come and pick him up? I wonder why my uncle's wife was alone when she had her heart attack? Where were her kids? Her friends? My uncle?

I'm such a selfish bitch. This is one of those times when I can't be superchick & I wish I had TW or some man to rescue me from being overwhelmed by life and stuff.

But.

I'm out of excuses & time & putting it off anymore. I have to start my job & I'm kind of glad that I won't have time to think so much.

Peace everybody.

--Free